


Stay

by InnerSpectrum



Series: Mystrade is Our Division Prompts [83]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Facebook: Mystrade is our Division Fic Prompts, Mystrade is Our Division Prompts, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:36:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25901434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerSpectrum/pseuds/InnerSpectrum
Summary: The times Greg asks Mycroft to stay the night and the time he finally does.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: Mystrade is Our Division Prompts [83]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1090899
Comments: 14
Kudos: 109





	Stay

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Mystrade is our Division FB Fic Prompts: Stay

“Stay?”

“Gregory you know… I can’t…” Mycroft said softly his voice a little broken.

Mycroft has never spent the night at Greg’s flat. Except that first night they had made love.

They had awakened that first morning laughing yet growling at the alarms that dared infringe upon their moment. Each called in to their respective jobs and took a personal morning off work.

As Mycroft left, he wondered how long before they can share a morning again.

* * *

“Stay…?”

Greg smiled to himself at the memory of when Mycroft pulled on one of Greg’s dressing gowns and proceeded to show off his cooking skills.

“That’s a sentimental look, love... Thinking of our first night again or rather or first morning?” Mycroft pulled on his coat; his own expression turned bittersweet at Greg’s wistful nod.

It was not enough to stop another kiss goodnight before he left. 

* * *

“Stay…?”

Greg asked softly once again. The fully bespoke suited man gave him a kiss goodnight as response. It was as much a silent reproach for having asked again, as it was a promise that _someday…_

A _someday_ Greg was beginning to think would never happen.

* * *

“Stay…?”

“If I spend the night, eventually _they will know_. People will know and come after you.” Mycroft sat up and placed a hand on his head and gave it a tender caress.

“I know…” Greg whispered. Knees up, his forehead rested on the crossed arms on top of them, he felt, more than saw the movement as his lover slowly withdrew his hand and then rose from their bed.

_No! Not our bed. My bed. I will not call it ours until he wakes up in it with the dawn and not have to run._

It had almost happened. They both had immediately fallen asleep after a particularly amorous night. The first hints of the twilight were breaking over the horizon when Mycroft startled awake. He saw the time and was not happy as he all but tore out of there before the sun fully rose.   
  
Greg had had enough, he did not want to hide anymore. 

* * *

Greg is hurt, but not surprised when a week passed without seeing and barely hearing from Mycroft. Mycroft’s fear of and for Greg being used as a target next is more than Mycroft can bear. His heart pulls him to Greg, his fear pulls him away. He cannot convince Mycroft otherwise.

Greg turned over in his lonely bed and wished he could ask “Stay…?” for it would have meant Mycroft had been there.

* * *

Greg walked into his bedroom and barely kicked his shoes off before he all but collapsed on his bed. The bank robbery had gone horribly wrong, concluding with two fatalities and three officers injured. Greg now needed a new trench from the bullet that tore through the sleeve. The bullet had grazed his arm, the pain meds had started to wear off. He winced as he clutched his pillow.

What felt like moments later he jolted up in pain, having turned onto the hurt arm. He was annoyed with himself for having fallen asleep in his clothes. As he put his feet on the floor, he was not surprised to see a glass of water and pain meds on the bedside table. He turned then to the shaft of light of the lit floor lamp behind him.

Seated in the chair by the window, a fully dressed Mycroft looked up from the book he was reading. “Hello.”

All Greg could do was stare at the man.

Mycroft’s voice was soft, and pain filled at the silence, “I am so sorry, Gregory.”

Greg’s joy at seeing him conflicted with his hurt at having been pushed away for over a week.

“Why, Mycroft?” Having found his voice, Greg could not care at how broken it sounded.

“Because I am a fool.” Mycroft admitted. “Sherlock says you see, but do not observe. I hear, but I do not listen when I think I’m right. Which almost all the time.”

“That’s because you _are_ right, almost all the time.”

“True. But almost is not _always,_ Gregory, and that’s the point here.”

Greg barely stifled his yawn. “Uh… What’s the point?”

Mycroft placed a marker in the book and closed it. He stood and came around to Greg’s side of the bed and crouched to one knee in front of him.

“You had pointed out the potential mortalities of our respective employments. I heard mine; but did not listen when it came to yours. I let the very real fear of some madman coming after me by putting you in their crosshairs get the better of me. It caused me to erroneously think I was protecting you via my absence in your life. When I was informed of the bank robbery as it unfolded and about your being shot, I finally listened.”

Mycroft picked up the glass of water and the meds and handed them to Greg to take and continued, “The day-to-day of your job has as much potential madmen that can take you from me at any moment as mine. Though not the norm for either of us, yesterday proved my absence cannot protect us from the madmen that _could_ potentially lay harm to our bodies. What it also proved is that my absence from you would assuredly kill us both in our souls. And that is something I _can_ protect us from.”

Greg’s half-asleep eyes had drifted to the window as Mycroft spoke. They observed the unbelievable.

“You sat in the chair all night?” Greg took the meds and handed Mycroft the empty water glass. His eyes widened in realization that Mycroft would be leaving soon.

“You were too exhausted to notice I was here, and I did not feel I had the right to touch you until we spoke.” Mycroft said sheepishly as he placed the glass back on the coaster.

Greg brought his eyes to rest on Mycroft. He could see toll that the past few days, but especially the past day, have taken on the Iceman. He could see how badly Mycroft wanted to touch him. He could see the apology. He could see the love. Still, he knew…

“Ask me…” Mycroft’s other knee joined the first on the floor as he looked up into Greg’s eyes and pleaded softly.

Greg’s eyes drifted around the room, his heart about to break. 

Hands on his thighs, Mycroft’s head had dropped at the heartache Greg knew shown in his teary eyes.

“Gregory… Please!”

Greg reached out and caressed Mycroft’s chin. He could not deny his heart, nor could he continue like this.

Tearfully he asked anyway.

“Stay…?”

Greg looked away unwilling to look into Mycroft's eyes when his own eyes fell upon the answer already before him. He gently gasped at the sight of the suit bag that hung from the wardrobe door. Mycroft’s suit bag. Mycroft’s overnight suit bag. Only then did it register with Greg that it was already morning as the first hints of dawn could be seen through a gap in the curtain windows.

Greg saw the relieved joy that lit in Mycroft’s eyes as they gazed upon each other again. He knew by the slight quirk of Mycroft’s lip in a near shy smile, that he had deduced Greg now knew what his response would be.

Mycroft reached out for Greg with a breathtaking kiss and answered anyway.

“Forever!”


End file.
